


One's Mistake is Another's Downfall

by Parker_28



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (only for a bit tho), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has Panic Attacks, But wait...!, Descriptions of Minor Self-Harm, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Graphic descriptions of suicide, Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Love Confessions, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Self-Harm in response to a panic attack, So much angst, Suicide Attempt, Unsympathetic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Unsympathetic Logic | Logan Sanders, Unsympathetic Morality | Patton Sanders, Unsympathetic Sides (Sanders Sides), You're wlecome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29140176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker_28/pseuds/Parker_28
Summary: Virgil Tavora and Roman Prince had only been dating for a couple of months when something unforeseen happens. Virgil shows up at school to find his boyfriend very upset with him. Unable to understand what he did, Virgil falls into a state of depression and heightened anxiety. Without his friends to back him up, what happens to his mental state?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~This story is fairly short, but it does deal with some heavy topics. Like a couple of my other stories, there are graphic descriptions of panic attacks, self-harm, blood, and a suicide attempt. If any of these topics unsettle you, do not read this. Thanks, and stay safe, you beautiful people!
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Background Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 16
Kudos: 68





	1. ~Virgil~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: PLEASE READ THE TAGS
> 
> If you've read the warnings, and still feel comfortable reading this, enjoy!
> 
> (See the end of the work for more notes.)

Virgil had his hands shoved deep in his pockets, walking slowly down the street. It was Monday, and the last thing he wanted to do was lock himself in the prison that was his high school. Alas, he had no choice. He didn’t want to be grounded again. The last time that happened, he didn’t get to see his boyfriend for a week. And that was pretty detrimental to his mental health. Roman was a staple in Virgil’s life and one of his biggest support systems, if not, his biggest. Patton was a close runner, being his best friend. He was like a father figure, in a way, to Virgil. He’d been his best friend since they were kids, and Virgil had learned to confide in and trust Patton with anything. Patton’s boyfriend, Logan, was also a great person to get advice from. He was straight to the point, honest, and very logical. So, whenever Virgil needed something non-sugar-coated, he’d go to Logan, who would happily oblige him. But Virgil could easily say that Roman topped them both. 

He always knew what Virgil needed, what he was feeling, and how to help. He could work him out of a panic attack, cheer him up when he was down, and ask the right questions to help him open up. He was sweet, handsome, compassionate, courageous, and a perfect complement to Virgil. He could definitely say he loved Roman. He hadn’t told him that yet, seeing as they’d only been dating for a couple months, and they were taking things slow. But Virgil was in love. He knew it. 

So, when he saw his boyfriend down the hall, his heart fluttered despite his sour attitude regarding the day of the week it was. He sped up a tiny bit out of pure anticipation. When he got close enough, he raised a hand and called out his boyfriend’s name. He turned around to face Virgil. Virgil nearly stumbled when he got a good look at Roman’s face. He was angry. And his eyes only seemed to harden when they locked with Virgil’s. The emo slowed as he approached, stopping a few feet away from the other teen. 

“Hey, Ro. What’s wrong?” he forced from his quivering lip. He hated how easily he could feel like this, anxious and weak. He tried to keep a straight face as Roman opened his mouth and began speaking at a higher volume than necessary. 

“What’s wrong? _What’s wrong?_ What’s wrong is the texts you sent me yesterday, Virgil!” he yelled. A few people turned and looked at them. 

Virgil took a step back, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over him, making his stomach churn and his breathing pick up. He was at a loss, opening and closing his mouth for a moment before finally asking, “I- texts? What do you mean?” that seemed to make Roman even more upset. 

“Are you serious? Don’t act like you have no idea what I’m talking about! That message was completely uncalled for!” Virgil backed up again, never having been on the receiving end of his boyfriend’s wrath. He’d seen it before, yes, and even watching it directed at another person brought tears to his eyes. After Roman calmed down, he would always hold Virgil and assure him that he was not yelling at him, and that he would never yell at him. Yet, here they were. “After all of that, you don’t deserve to act like it didn’t happen!” 

“I-I really don’t know-,” Virgil all but whimpered. Roman interrupted. 

“Shut up! I know how you really feel, now! You could have at least told me how much you hate me in person. So just go! I never want to see you again!” that's when the tears spilled. Roman paid it no mind, turning on his heel and briskly walking away. Virgil sobbed and turned, too, running the other direction. He kept his head down to try and conceal his uncontrollable tears. He pushed through people, ignoring their noises of pain or swears directed at him. He ran into the nearest boy’s bathroom, pushing through the group of vaping students to get into the farthest stall. He was trying to hold in his sobbing, but judging by how fast everyone else left the room, he was failing. A few bells rang while he was in there. People came and went. Someone tried to talk to him, but Virgil couldn’t get any words out of his mouth. At some point, Virgil took out his phone and opened his text messages to Roman. The most recent one from Roman was ‘See you on Monday’ with a heart emoji. Virgil sobbed, staring at it. He had no idea what to do.

Eventually, Virgil took a shaking breath and shoved himself to his feet. He didn’t bother looking in the mirror on the way out. He had no doubt he looked like absolute shit. His makeup was probably running down his face, too. But he simply pushed back into the crowd. He tightened his hold on his backpack straps, trying to see a clock through his blurry vision and tell what class it was. He was about to give up and go back into the bathroom when he saw a familiar face. Patton. 

He smiled and huffed in relief, running up to Patton who was talking to some other student. “Patton!” he called. Patton turned around, a smile on his face. But when he saw Virgil, it dimmed into a neutral expression. Virgil slowed, already feeling the tears come back. When he got closer to his friend, he noticed a bit of concern in his gaze. 

“Virge? What’s wrong?” Patton asked, raising an eyebrow. Virgil swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“This m-morning, R-Roman-,” but he didn’t even get to explain.

“You know, it was really shitty what you did to him,” Patton interrupted. Everything crashed down. The tears started up again and Patton took a step back. Why would he say that to him? What did he do? What did they think he did? How bad would it have to be to make _Patton_ call him shitty?

“I-I didn’t d-do anything,” Virgil sobbed, trying to convince Patton through the onslaught of tears. Patton shook his head.

“I know you must be feeling guilty, but that doesn’t change that you did it in the first place.”

“B-But I-.”

“Maybe if you apologized instead of denying your wrongdoing, we would be more inclined to forgive you, Virgil,” a new voice said from behind him. Virgil turned and stared into the deep, cold eyes of Logan. Virgil sobbed again and ran the other direction. He couldn’t take it. He pushed through the students packing the halls. He pushed until he was outside, in the back of the school. He ducked behind a dumpster where he used to hide before he had Roman to go to. He sobbed harder. 

He curled up, burying his head into his arms. He whimpered, breathing through a gaping mouth. He could feel the panic rising, and for once he didn’t fight it. Everything faded as the fear took over. Thoughts were racing through his head, moving almost too fast for him to comprehend. Everything was silent but too loud. He could feel the ragged concrete cutting his hands as he clutched it, but he was floating. He was floating above his body, up and backwards. He couldn’t control anything, couldn’t do anything. He tried moving his arms to hug himself, but he had no idea if it had worked. His vision was blacking out and he felt like he was about to pass out, until his hearing returned slowly and he could see again. He took shaking breaths and looked around. The sun was no longer shining above the heads of students, but now close to settling on the other side of the horizon. He moved his hand and immediately winced. He looked down to see red on his fingers. He looked closer and saw five small crescent shapes indented in his forearm. There was red blood dried around the wounds and down both his hands. He sighed and removed his nails from his skin. He reached behind him and used the wall to push himself up. He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. School was over at this point, and if he went home, he would surely be questioned on where he was. But if he didn’t return soon, he was sure to be grounded. His stomach growled dangerously at him as he sighed, making up his mind. 

As he walked, he ran his fingertips over the marks on his right arm. They stung, but it felt strangely comforting. He lightly scratched them and felt even better. He walked faster, scratching harder. He zoned out, losing himself in the feeling of stinging pain. One minute turned into twenty and he was standing in front of his door, fresh blood dripping onto the welcome mat. He couldn’t bring himself to care. He tugged his hoodie down and opened the door, running up the stairs and locking the door to his bedroom after himself. Only after listening for a minute did he drop his backpack and walk farther into the room. He pulled out a first aid kit he had from when he’d cut himself on his razor the other day. He removed some gauze and wrapped it around his wrist. Red started bleeding through the fabric, but after a few layers, it stopped. Virgil sighed, cutting it off from the roll and taping it down. He looked at his hoodie, stained in a few places. He loved this hoodie. 

Removing it as he walked, he made his way downstairs into the laundry room. He smiled when he found no one there. He sprayed some stain remover onto the jacket and threw it into the washing machine, turning it onto a normal cycle. He walked out, now only in his purple tee shirt and white-but-slightly-red gauze. He ran back up to his room and switched into a long sleeve shirt. He was wondering why no one else had come up to him yet when he heard the front door open. There was some shuffling before the sound of his mother’s voice flowed easily through the thin walls. 

“Virgil! I’m home!” Virgil scrambled downstairs, stopping when he saw his mother standing in the kitchen holding the welcome mat in her arms. She didn’t look mad, only confused and slightly annoyed. Good. Virgil didn’t think he could handle any more yelling today. “Hey, baby. I’m so sorry, my shift went late. I’ll start dinner right now! But, do you know what this red stuff is on the mat? I’m going to have to clean this out,” she stared at the mat in disdain, like it was her dog that had just rolled around in the mud and ran through the house. 

“O-Oh, uh, I was eating Crofters on my way home and must have spilled some, sorry,” he rushed through the lie, trying to keep his voice steady. 

“Oh, hun, I thought we broke that habit. Eating plain Crofters is very unhealthy, you know that,” she scolded. Virgil nodded, looking anywhere but her judging eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, hoping it sounded genuine enough. 

“It’s alright, sweetie. Just please, never do it again,” she smiled before walking to the laundry room. Virgil slumped against the counter, sighing in relief. He wanted to spend the rest of the day in his room, but he was forced into dinner a couple hours later. It was fast and awkward, with Virgil trying to push his anxiety down. When he returned to his room, he was beyond exhausted. With visions of Roman’s furious face in his mind, Virgil drifted into an unsteady sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I know, it's pretty short, but I didn't want to post the entire work as a one-shot like I tend to do. This is my first time really posting a chaptered fic, so hopefully, it goes okay. I should have the next chapter up in a few days!
> 
> Have a great day/night! (Go to bed, you people up at 4 am)
> 
> Peace!
> 
> ~Parker_28


	2. ~Virgil~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets triggering towards the end, so please be cautious. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just more angst, but don't worry! I'll fix it later!

The next day was hard. He woke up to his mother’s disappointed face. Apparently, after he’d gone to bed early, she got a call saying that Virgil had been absent to all his classes that day. She was absolutely pissed that he’d skipped, so he was grounded. He supposed it didn’t matter so much. It’s not like he wanted to see his boyfriend at the moment. Rather, Roman didn’t want to see  _ him.  _ All Virgil wanted to do was fall into Roman’s arms, cuddle him and nuzzle under his chin like he used to; just be in the same space as him, even just breathe the same air. But he also didn’t think he could look him in the eye without crying. Damn his sensitivity. 

So, Virgil walked to school that morning, even less excited for school than yesterday. Borderline terrified. He walked directly to his first period instead of following through his usual routine of going to Roman’s locker and talking until the warning bell rang. He sat in the back that day, hanging his head and ignoring the teacher for the most part. She’d called on him once and he gave a tiny, half-hearted answer. She was a strict teacher, so she didn’t think first about Virgil’s mental well-being, just that this was a rebellious student that wasn’t paying attention because he didn’t care. So, he wound up with lunch detention. At least it wasn’t after school detention. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten a detention, but he made sure it never happened when he was also grounded. He was so dead. He hung his head again to hide the couple silent tears that escaped his eyes. 

The rest of the day went similarly. No more lunch detentions, but he was called out a few times. His only nice teacher had asked if he was alright, but Virgil just lied to her and remained silent the rest of the period. The kicker was his last class. The one he shared with his boyfriend. He would always be looking forward to this class. It was English, his favorite subject, and Roman was there! Virgil always used this class as inspiration to make it through the day. But today was the first day he didn’t want to go in. He hesitated at the door, seeing Roman at their usual table chatting happily with the person behind him. Virgil took a deep breath and opened the door. Roman’s eyes travelled to see who’d just walked in, and he immediately stopped talking when he saw Virgil. A tiny flash of something crossed his eyes before he turned fully around in his chair, away from Virgil, and started talking again. Virgil held in the tears as he walked to the back of the class, taking the empty seat that no one usually claimed. A few students were looking between the two, confused and worried. Roman and Virgil were their source of entertainment in this class. Yes, their teacher, Mr. Sanders, was the best teacher anyone could ask for. But the two boys played off Mr. Sanders perfectly, and the three of them made the class laugh. Seeing Virgil on the verge of tears and Roman completely ignoring him rubbed them all the wrong direction. It was strange. It wasn’t good. As the teacher began teaching the students, they all noticed him faltering and stumbling on his words a few times. He was so used to having partners in his teaching, whether they were actually being helpful or not. That was probably the worst class he’d ever taught. 

Virgil went home, greeting his mother who was still disappointed in him. She looked a little concerned, and Virgil left before she could ask him anything. He cried himself to sleep that night. And the next. And the next. One day, he couldn’t bring himself to open the door to Mr. Sander’s room. He made eye contact with the teacher while hesitating at his door. He swallowed a lump in his throat and shook his head in apology before running down the hall. He heard someone call his name, but he kept running until he was behind the dumpster again. 

He emerged an hour and a half later when all the students had left. He was about to cross the campus to the street when Mr. Sanders walked out the side door of the building, directly in front of Virgil. 

“Virgil?” he asked, walking over to his student. Virgil stopped in his tracks, staring in slight fear. “I marked you present for class. I could tell you needed some time. Just know that I’m here if you need anything, okay?” he smiled so genuinely that it brought tears to Virgil’s eyes. He could barely conceal a sob as the tears spilled over. Mr. Sanders gasped quietly, dropping his bag and walking forward to hug his student loosely. Virgil clutched his jacket, crying into the man’s chest. They stood there for a while, on the side of the school, hugging. 

Eventually, Virgil calmed and retracted his face. “Thank you, Mr. Sanders.” 

“Call me Thomas,” he grinned. “And you’re welcome. Do you want to talk?” 

Virgil shook his head but thanked the man anyway. They bid each other goodbye after Virgil assured his teacher that he could get home safely, on his own. The rest of the night was a blur. He went to bed and woke up the next morning. He passed Mr. Sanders in the hall that day, and he told Virgil that he could have another day if he needed it. Virgil thanked him and skipped his class again that day. He came around the building the same time that day and saw Thomas at his car. 

“Thomas?” 

“Oh!” the man turned, closing the trunk of his car to smile at his student. “Hello, Virgil! How are you?” 

“I’ve been better. I was actually wanting to ask, uh, what we did today in class.” 

“Oh, we just went over the first act of Antigone. Have you read it?” 

“Yeah, I have,” Virgil answered honestly. 

“Great! Here, I have a packet you can work through-,” after a few minutes, Virgil had everything he needed to catch up. He thanked Thomas again and left. This strange routine continued for a few days, until the end of the week. On Friday after school, Thomas stopped Virgil before he could leave. 

“I actually wanted to talk to you, Virge,” he walked them over to a bench on the outskirts of the faculty parking lot, sitting across from his student. “I realize that you’re going through something, and I get that. Really, I do. But this is against the rules. Marking you present when you are absent is against the district’s policies. I could get fired for this. I just want to know why you can’t sit in on my class, Virgil.” 

He had no idea how to answer the man. If he told the truth, Thomas would make him go back to class, surely. If he lied, he could spin a whole web of something that would definitely blow up in his face. So, he opened his mouth and spilled. Everything came pouring out, how much he relied on his boyfriend, the yelling in the hall, his friends, the panic attack, his mom, everything. “So I just can’t look at Roman right now,” he finished with a strained voice, trying his very hardest not to cry in front of his teacher. Again. 

“Alright, Virgil,” Thomas’s face was a mix of sympathy and worry. Virgil barely held back a choked sound when Thomas pulled him into a hug, something he immediately reciprocated. “I’ll give you some more time to work this out.” 

“Thank you,” and with that, Virgil was on his way home.

Virgil was walking to his homeroom class when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Assuming it was a teacher, he turned around with a neutral expression on his face. But when he saw Patton standing there, he took a couple steps back and looked down, begging himself not to start crying again. 

“Uh, hey Virgil,” he said. His voice sounded weird. Or maybe it was the fact that he’d said his full name. He always called him Virge, or Vee, or kiddo. Never Virgil. He swallowed hard.

“What?” he cursed himself for sounding so weak. 

“Uh, well, I was talking to Roman,” don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry, “and he told me that you stopped showing up for your last class,” he said. Virgil looked up. He was here because he’s worried about him? 

“Oh,” is the only thing he could think to say. The panic and sadness was slowly receding. So Patton was here to tell him that Roman was worried about him. Thank god. He didn’t think he could take any more-.

“You really shouldn’t be skipping class just to avoid him. Are you trying to be an attention seeker? Just own up to what you did and apologize.” 

Oh. 

Virgil turned on his heel and walked away. Patton called his name a few times, but didn’t make any move to stop him from leaving. Virgil walked out the doors and through the courtyard, out the gates and down the street. He walked all the way home, the entire time his mind was empty. What was there to think about? Roman hated him. Patton didn’t see through whatever story Roman told him about Virgil. Logan didn’t even bother trying to get Virgil’s side of the story. He had no one. He couldn’t rely on Mr. Sanders because he could get fired. Virgil would never forgive himself for that. He couldn't confide in his mother, either. She was already so stressed. She didn’t need his problems on top of trying to keep them alive. Maybe it would be better if Virgil was gone. 

He unlocked the door, not bothering to lock it back. He knew his mother got home early today, but he had enough time. He walked upstairs, not bothering to kick off his shoes. He dropped his backpack in the doorway of his bedroom. He fell to his knees at his bed, reaching underneath to retrieve a small pack under his mattress. He unzipped the pack, removing a razor. He’d gone through a self harm phase before Roman got him to stop. His mother didn’t know about it. But all of that wouldn’t matter, anyway. He looked at the razor for a long time. Was he really doing this? 

What if he just explained to Roman that he didn’t send any text messages and that he didn’t know what was going on?  **He won’t listen to you.** What if he apologized anyway, just to see if Roman would forgive him?  **He won’t.** What if he-  **It won’t work.**

Mind made up, Virgil took a deep breath and pressed the razor against the inside of his arm, hand shaking wildly. He shut his eyes tight and dragged the metal across, pressing hard into his flesh. He felt his skin open, he felt the pain, but it didn’t matter. He committed. He had to finish the job. He picked the weapon up and placed it just below, making another incision across his wrist. He continued, sobbing all the while. It’s fine. It’ll all be over soon. Nothing will hurt him again. He didn’t need this life. He didn’t need his mother or Mr. Sanders. He didn’t need Patton or Logan. He didn’t need Roman. Virgil doesn’t love him anymore. He doesn’t want to be here with any of them. They hurt him! They don’t understand! He’s fine! They’re right! He’s horrible! He’s okay! HE’S A MONSTER!

Liar.

Virgil opened his eyes. He was on the floor. He looked down. His arm was completely torn up. He couldn’t feel the pain anymore. He was floating again, vision darkening around the edges. But it was different this time. He felt a sort of finality in it. Like this was the last time any of this would happen. This was the end, he realized. He’d really done it. He was going to die. 

A door opened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to edit the final chapter, so I'll see y'all in a few days! Your fluff is coming soon :)
> 
> Peace!
> 
> ~Parker_28


	3. ~Roman~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've kept you all waiting long enough. Here is the final chapter to this little fic! This chapter is considerably longer and features some angst amongst the fluff (it's better at the end, I promise!) 
> 
> I hope you all like this last chapter!

Roman tossed and turned in his bed. How was he supposed to sleep? His love was out there, hurting and alone. Yes, Virgil did send those horrible messages to Roman, but he can admit that he overreacted a bit, especially realizing how hurt Virgil had looked on the receiving end of his wrath. Roman hadn’t meant to get that angry, especially in the hallway of their public school. Regrettably, Roman was unable to control his temper. After all, Virgil had basically pointed out every one of Roman’s flaws and insecurities, all the while expressing how much he hated Roman. But, then again, when he’d read it, Roman couldn’t believe it. He’d stared at the texts for far longer than he’d normally; the words on his phone, they felt wrong. Roman had thought he was in denial, but now that he was here, lying awake in the early hours of the morning, thinking back on every single detail of the past couple weeks, he realized what had really happened. That day, his instincts were telling him that there was something strange about the messages. He always listened to his instincts. In his gut, he felt like he fucked up. Did he? 

His eyes slid closed, and memories flashed brightly behind his lids. Anger, pain, and insecurity were floating around his head like clouds, too thick to see through, so dense he could feel them pressing in and giving him a headache. Virgil was crying, tears glistening as bright as the sun, then his steps pounded away, the rolling thunder of the storm, the storm that had been brewing since Roman read the messages. Flashing images in rapid succession: Virgil averting his gaze, Virgil wincing and stepping away from him, Virgil stuttering, Virgil begging, Virgil running, Virgil, Virgil, Virgil. Virgil sitting in the back of the class, never looking anywhere but at his desk, or his open palms resting on his knees. Virgil. Virgil. Virgil. He never returned to that class.

This felt so wrong. Everything was so messed up. How did he get here? 

Patton, Roman remembered, had said that Virgil was feeling guilty about what he did. But guilt showed itself through a burning pain, eating you inside and out until you apologized. If Virgil was feeling guilty, Roman would have seen more anxiety symptoms. What he saw in Virgil was quiet, still, sadness, sinking, isolation-.

Shit. 

Oh fuck. 

Oh God, fuck, no! 

Roman you goddamned idiot!

He sat ramrod straight in his bed, staring ahead into the pitch black of his room, eyes burning with tears. He knew this! He should have thought...he should have talked with him, asked him why he said those things. Virgil’s first reaction to his mood should have been a sign! What has he done?!

He knew how hard Virgil’s life has been. He’s grappled with anxiety and depression for years. Roman has been so good for him, he could tell, and Virgil had admitted how grateful he was to have him. They made so much progress! Roman had helped Virgil out of too many panic attacks to count and was always there to hold him, reassure him, kiss the anxiety away. He’d gotten Virgil to quit his self-harming, and he was trying his best to remind Virgil to love himself. They’d made so much progress, and he’d ruined all of it. 

There was no telling how Virgil was feeling now. There was no way he was okay. And there was no way he was going to forgive Roman for what he did. 

The dramatic boy shook his head violently, ignoring the tears that flew from his cheeks with the action. Now was not the time to be thinking of himself. There was no room for selfishness in this situation. He’d already ruined a good thing, and all of this was his fault anyway. 

Roman shook his head again and leaned over to his bedside table to scoop up his phone. He winced at the bright light that it emitted when he turned it on. He lowered the brightness quickly before swiping to the phone app and pressing on Virgil’s contact. He held the phone to his ear, waiting motionless. ‘Please pick up, please pick up, please, please, pick up, Vee,’ he repeated in his head. It rang and rang. 

“Hey, uh, I’m probably asleep or something. I might call you back. Uh,  _ what do I press, now? Oh- _ ,”  _ ‘Please record your message after the bee-.’ _

Roman hung up and pressed the contact again. It rang and rang and rang. He kicked his covers off and stood up, beginning to pace around his room. 

“Hey, uh, I’m probably asleep or-.”

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. 

“Hey, uh, I’m prob-.”

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. 

“Hey, uh, I’m p-.”

It’s fine. He’s just asleep.  **He would have woken up by now.** His phone is dead.  **He’s too anxious to let his phone die.** He’s not home.  **Give up.**

He called and called, desperate tears falling from his face. He needed to fix this! He needed to talk to him, he needed to tell him how sorry he is, how he didn’t mean anything he said, how he loves him. Oh. He loves him. 

That realization brought more tears. He’s in love with the boy whose heart he’d broken. Roman let the call go to voicemail as he dropped to his knees and sobbed. Maybe he was being a little selfish, grieving the relationship he’d destroyed, but as he knew now, he had little to no self-control. After all, if he wasn’t picking up, there was nothing he could do tonight. He’d have to track him down tomorrow at school. 

Roman didn’t sleep at all that night. 

Roman walked into the school building slowly, his lethargic limbs refusing to cooperate. His usual saunter was nowhere to be seen, and he knew he looked like shit. He’d almost been late for school, despite being awake when his alarms went off that morning. He was feeling insanely guilty and knew that he needed to talk to Virgil.  _ Come on, just get to Virgil. That’s all you have to do.  _

He finally made it to his locker, opening it and grabbing the book he needed for his first class. He ignored the mirror on the inside of his locker door, not wanting to look at his face. There was no doubt in his mind that his eyes were still puffy, and there were probably dark circles underneath them, now, too. It didn’t help that he hadn’t had time to put on any sort of make-up that morning.

“Hey, Ro!” a cheery voice called from down the hall. Roman turned to smile at Patton. The fatherly boy faltered and Roman winced. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m just thinking.”

“You look like you haven’t slept!” Patton exclaimed, reaching forward to hold Roman’s face in his hands and look him over. It was very parental, and it made Roman swell with love for his best friend. But this wasn’t his priority right now. Virgil was. 

“Yeah. I’m okay. I need to talk to Virgil, though,” Roman softly pulled his face away from Patton, who was now frowning at the ground, a little confused.

“Why do you want to talk to him?” 

“I don’t know,” he lied. He really didn’t want to have to put all of his thoughts last night into words, and he didn’t think he’d have the energy anyway. 

“Well, if I were you, I wouldn’t want to,” Patton said, looking away. 

“Why?” Roman tried to keep his repressed anger...repressed. Getting upset with Patton too wouldn’t be great for any of them. Roman was trying to fix his first mistake, not create new problems. 

“Because he hurt you! I really don’t want to see you hurt more!” Patton was pouting slightly, reaching out to grab Roman’s hand. His protectiveness was making him upset. Roman slowly dodged the hand, and Patton reared, a little more upset. Roman shook his head, breaking eye contact. Roman was Patton’s friend before Virgil, so naturally, he took Roman’s side first. Roman was surprised that his friend hadn’t even tried to hear Virgil’s side of the story. They all messed up bad. Roman was the only one who’d realized it. 

“I have to get to class, Pat,” he muttered, reaching over to close his locker. He turned on his heel and began walking away. Patton called out that they still had ten minutes, and then told him he was going the wrong way. Roman didn’t listen, he just needed to get out of there. He walked through the halls, trying to blend in. People looked at him, one of the most popular kids in school, walking with his head down. He ducked into a bathroom and into the nearest stall. What should he do?

He could go to Virgil’s first period to try and find him. But, what could he do? Class started in five minutes, and that was not nearly enough time to talk. Plus, he couldn’t just pull Virgil out of class and demand he talks to him. He wanted to find him somewhere outside of class. 

Roman checked his watch and jumped up when he realized he was about to be late for class. The last thing he wanted was to be grounded. He ran out of the bathroom and into his first class, just as the bell rang. He sat down before the teacher turned his head and greeted the class. 

Maybe he could see him when he came out of first period? No, that wouldn’t work. Virgil’s class was on the other side of the school from Roman’s. But, his second class was across from Virgil’s. He could intercept him there! He smiled to himself, plan in place. 

“If you’re so happy, Mr. Prince, then I’m sure you’ve already solved the equation on the board?” his math teacher commented, glaring at his student. Roman flushed and responded that he hadn’t. The teacher scoffed and began to solve it. Roman didn’t mind. 

As soon as the bell rang, Roman jumped up and moved on to his second period, which was just a moment down the hall. He stood by the classroom door, watching across the hall to see if Virgil entered his second period. He was so focused that when someone shouted his name, he jumped and turned. His teacher was standing there, a look on her face that Roman didn’t have the energy to decode. 

“What are you waiting for out here, Mr. Prince?” she asked. The question was obviously rhetorical, so Roman just apologized and followed her inside. 

He tapped his foot all throughout his second period. He glared at the clock, almost attempting to threaten it into moving time faster. He couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong with Virgil. He hadn’t seen him all morning, and they almost always crossed paths when going to their second periods. He realized that he hadn’t been apart from Virgil this long since they got together, and his anxiety only grew at that. Roman shook his head lightly at himself. He felt a little like Virgil in that moment, with all the anxious thoughts he was trying hard to suppress. There were a few slipping through the cracks, terrible, horrible thoughts about what could have happened to Virgil, what he could have done to himself, what would happen. He was so overcome with irrational fear that he felt a little crazy and very nauseous. Suddenly, he wasn’t thinking so much about Virgil, but about his own flaws. His insincerity and arrogance through the last couple weeks, and their effect on Virgil. He fought down a lump of bile and excused himself to the bathroom. 

He ran to the nearest boy’s restroom, ducking into a stall. He sat on the floor for a while, letting the thoughts pass through his mind without the pressure to keep up a mask of indifference all the while. It was not one of his proudest moments, sitting on the bathroom floor at school, no make-up on, more anxious and guilty than he’d ever been in his life, and hope running low. Even so, when he checked his phone and realized class was almost over, he returned and waited out the final ten minutes. 

When the teacher dismissed the class, Roman packed up his stuff quickly and ran over next door. This was his sixth period class, and Virgil’s second. He entered the room and found that most of the students had left. A quick survey of the room told him that Virgil wasn’t in there. He felt a pit in his stomach start to form. Maybe he should ask the teacher if he was even there? If Virgil was absent, then there really was no reason for Roman to be searching him out today. 

He waited patiently, trying not to eavesdrop on a conversation the teacher was having with a student regarding their grades. By the time the student left, there was no one else left in the room other than the two. 

“Hello, Roman! I don’t expect you for another few hours, at least!” she joked. 

“Uh, yeah. I just wanted to ask a question,” he hesitated before asking, “Was Virgil in class today?” The look on his teacher’s face made the pit spread wider. It became deeper, darker, reaching all the way down to the depths of Hell itself. Roman figured that was a bit dramatic, but his love wasn’t at school today! He’d have to wait until tomorrow to apologize, and he didn’t want to wait that long! 

“I’m so sorry, Roman, but Virgil isn’t here today,” thinking that was it, Roman was about to thank her and tell her that he’d see her later, but she continued with a subdued and pitied voice. “ His mother called this morning and said that he’s in the hospital.” 

The pit was no longer a pit. It was a black hole, stretching across the entire universe, surrounding him, suffocating him. “What?” was all he could choke out of his closing throat. Why was Virgil in the hospital? What happened? Is he okay? What if he’s not okay? Was this an accident? Was it Roman’s fault? What if he’s dea-

“Are you okay?” he jumped, looking up into her eyes. She looked sad and concerned. It was then, after Roman had fully grounded himself, that he realized that he’d started crying. He wiped the tears quickly and took a deep breath. 

“What happened?” he whispered. 

“Listen, Roman. I would love to tell you, but I don’t know if I am allowed to tell you that kind of information. I know that you two are close friends, but I-.”

“Boyfriend,” Roman muttered.

“Pardon?” she asked, leaning forward to listen more closely. 

“He’s my boyfriend,” Roman’s voice cracked on the last syllable. The tears were starting again. “Please. What happened?”

She sighed, running a hand down her face. “Okay, Roman. I’ll tell you. But I have to trust that you will not go sharing this around the school. This is very sensitive information, and if you were to tell your friends, rumors would spread, and it will give Virgil a very difficult time when he comes back to school. You mustn’t tell-,” she was beginning to rant, but Roman cut her off.

“I won’t tell anyone, I swear on my life. Please, just tell me what happened to him.”

She sighed once again before looking away and saying, “Last night, Virgil attempted to commit suicide. I don’t know how stable he is, but- hey! Roman!” 

He was already running out the door. He pushed through the slowly dissipating crowds and into the cafeteria. He was holding back his tears as best he could, but his thoughts were spiraling. What if Virgil was really hurt? What if he was comatose? What if Virgil never wakes up? What if he suddenly dies while Roman is trying to get to the hospital? What if he never gets to say goodbye, or apologize, or tell him how much he loves him? What if Virgil does recover, but he wants nothing to do with Roman? What if he yells at him, what if he tells him he hates him? What if Virgil tries again and succeeds? 

By the time he’d made it out the back doors, into the parking lot, and over to his car, Roman couldn’t breathe. The air was too thick and his vision was blacking out. He felt dizzy and his throat hurt, and his skin felt uncomfortable, and he  _ needed to get out, needed out, now!  _

He tried to force himself out of it. He had to get to Virgil, he had to see him, he needed to see him! But he could do nothing against his closing throat and the sinking feeling he was overtaken with. He leaned against his car and sunk to the concrete, trying to breathe, willing himself not to pass out.   
“-an! Roman! Roman, can you hear me? Try to breathe for me.” 

That voice. Roman recognized it. But from where? It was telling him to do something. What did it want him to do? Breathe? He tried to bring air into his lungs, but only got a bit in before he huffed and gasped. He was still breathing just as shallow, even though he tried to slow the speed down, and the person rewarded him for the effort. 

“Breathe out completely, then take a deep breath in,” it took Roman a moment to comprehend the words being said to him before he tried. When he breathed out, he found that he had much more air in his lungs than he thought he did. After emptying out all the breath he could, he took a deep one in. The person rewarded him again. He continued taking deeper and deeper breaths until he could feel the concrete beneath his fingers and force his own eyes open. He focused on the man crouching on the ground in front of him and immediately recognized him. He smiled, and the man smiled back. 

“Are you feeling alright, Roman?” Mr. Sanders asked, offering a hand to Roman. The shaken student smiled and nodded, taking the hand offered to him. They both stood, and Roman had to lean against his car, a small wave of vertigo washing over his head. 

“Ugh,” he closed his eyes for a moment. 

“Are you alright?”

“Jus’ dizzy. An’ tired,” Roman slurred. He rubbed his itchy eyes before opening them and settling his gaze back onto his teacher. What happened? He was in school, talking to another teacher, and then he was running outside? Why? 

“Why are you out here?” that prompting was all Roman needed for everything to come flooding back. 

“Virgil!” he shouted, pushing off of his car to stand on his own. “I have to get to the hospital!” 

Mr. Sanders winced. “Oh, Virgil. His mother called all of his teachers to tell us what happened,” he hesitated before gesturing to Roman and asking, “Do you think you can drive in this state?”

Roman was about to protest that  _ of course, he is!  _ But, then he realized what Mr. Sanders was implying. 

“Hand me the keys,” Mr. Sanders grinned a lopsided smile, and Roman smiled back gratefully. He hesitated a second because he was giving his car keys to an older man who, technically, was a stranger. But then he realized just how shot his nerves were, and how droopy his eyes were, and he realized that he may end up in the very same hospital as Virgil if he attempted to drive. So, he dropped his keys in Mr. Sander’s outstretched hand and ran around the car to get into the passenger seat. Mr. Sanders got in the driver’s seat, and after taking a second to adjust the seat and mirrors, he pulled out of the parking lot. They drove just over the speed limit all the way to the on-ramp for the highway. Once his teacher had merged, Roman spoke up. 

“Mr. Sanders?” 

“Call me Thomas, Roman.” 

“Uh, Thomas?”

“Yeah?” he smiled over at his student before returning his gaze to the lanes full of other cars. Roman wondered how many of them were going to the same place they were. 

“Why are you helping me?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to get into an accident! You should never drive right after you have a panic attack like that.” 

Roman blushed before continuing, “No, I mean, shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Shouldn’t you?” Thomas teased back. 

Roman flushed further, “Yes, I should! So why are you helping me skip school?”

“Well, If you had been paying attention in class,” Thoman teased further, making Roman a tomato, “then you would know that my morning classes are all at a reading of the play we are analyzing this unit,” Thomas smiled, “and I had to stay back for my afternoon classes,” he gestured over at Roman. “And I’m helping you because I know how close you and Virgil are. Don’t tell anyone, but you two are some of my favorite students,” he joked. Roman laughed a little. 

“I also know that you two have never fought like this before. Virgil was a mess. He told me everything after school one day. He didn’t have anyone, and I was there by coincidence.” 

“Fuck,” Roman muttered, burying his face in his hands, “I messed up so bad. I overreacted and didn’t mean anything I said. I wanted to apologize today, talk to him and make up with him. But, now he’s-,” he felt the tears coming back up. 

Thomas patted Roman’s knee a couple times and said softly, “I figured you felt bad, seeing you panicking in the parking lot trying to get to him.” 

Roman nodded miserably, looking through his fingers to see where they were. It was about ten minutes to the hospital. 

“Thomas?” 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Roman.”

The rest of the car ride was silent. The closer they got to the hospital, the more anxious Roman got. He needed to see Virgil, now. But he was also terrified to see his face. His emotions were stirring and brewing and about to burst. He wanted to cry. He wanted to yell and scream. He wanted to punch someone, hug someone, kiss someone. A little part of him wanted to open his door and jump into traffic. 

Finally, or maybe too soon, they pulled into the hospital parking lot. Roman jumped out and began running to the doors. Thomas locked the car and ran after his student. They got inside and were faced with an emptier-than-normal waiting room. Roman was already up at the desk by the time Thomas got through the doors.

“Virgil Tavora.”

“Name and relation to the patient,” she said, sounding completely bored. Roman tried to keep his cool. 

“Roman Prince. I’m his boyfriend.” 

“Only family is allowed on that floor. You’ll have to wait until he’s transferred or-.”

“I am his family! Please, let me see him!”

“I’m very sorry, sir,” she did not seem sorry in the slightest, “but there’s nothing I can do.” 

“Please, just let me go and see him!”

“Sir, I’m sorry, but I am going to have to ask you to leave.”

Roman was about to protest again when a broken female voice stopped all conversation. “Roman?”

He turned immediately to see a short woman wearing Virgil’s favorite purple-patched hoodie. She was holding a fresh cup of coffee, her normally beautiful green eyes bloodshot and puffy. Her face held sorrow and surprise. Roman ran up to her and wrapped her arms around her as she nearly collapsed into him. 

“Hey, Ms. Tavora. How are you guys holding up?”

“I-I’m okay. Vee’s doing okay,” she said, her tone raspy and eyes watery. She reared and smiled a little, “But, how many times do I have to ask you to call me Mindy?” Roman laughed a little, rubbing up and down her back. 

“Can I… can I see him?”

Mindy nodded, beginning to walk down the hall. Roman was about to follow after her when he remembered. He ran back over to the desk where the woman was flirting with a very uncomfortable looking Thomas. He looked relieved when his student approached him. He became slightly shocked when he didn’t slow down. He caught Roman in his arms as he came in for a tight hug. He chuckled lightly and ruffled Roman’s hair. 

“Thank you, Thomas. Thank you for everything.”

“Of course, Roman. Go see your boyfriend,” he grinned down at his student. Roman nodded and was about to run back over to Mindy when Thomas called out to him again. “Don’t forget your keys,” he said, handing them back over to the student. “I’m going to call my friend, Joan, to pick me up,” he smiled. Roman nodded again, gave him another short hug and a thank you, before leaving with Virgil’s mother. He smiled after them. They’d be alright. 

Roman stopped at the door Mindy stood outside of. He looked through the little window, eyes landing on a figure sitting in the bed. A tuft of purple-tinted hair poked out from a head half-buried beneath blankets. An arm was sticking out from the mound, an IV line running into the wrist. When Roman looked closer, he realized that what he thought was a sheet on Virgil's arm was actually layers of white bandage. He gasped despite himself and felt his eyes welling up again. 

He could faintly hear a television behind the door, and he could see the beautiful black eyes he’d grown to love staring at the corner of the room, towards the ceiling, where he assumed the screen lay. His skin was pale, but the purple under his eyes had faded and his usual eye bags were smaller. He must have gotten some good sleep here. He smiled lightly at his boyfriend. He really loved him. 

“You should go in,” Mindy placed a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “Earlier, he asked if you’d been in. I told him that no one knew what had happened to him. That’s when I called the school, and I assume you heard from one of your teachers.”

Roman could only nod, unable to take his eyes away from the boy in the blankets. Internally, two large emotions were battling for dominance over his brain. Overwhelming love for his boyfriend, and the burning anxiety he felt as he stood there. Before he could begin to overthink everything - it reminded him so much of Virgil that the love swelled larger - he was opening the door. 

Everything seemed to slow when he stepped inside. The door was closing behind Roman, his glip having slipped from it. Virgil had looked up as soon as he heard someone enter. Their eyes were locked for a while, just looking at each other. It was like they were two wild animals, searching the other for malicious intent, or maybe thinking about where to strike first. Virgil’s eyes were wide, and Roman’s were burning with unshed tears. It was barely a moment more before Roman, unable to control his body’s movements, was walking up to the other boy’s bedside. The boy in question sat up as Roman approached, the blankets falling away from the rest of his face. He was blinking rapidly as if he didn’t believe the sight in front of him. As Roman stopped beside him, Virgil’s hand twitched like he wanted to reach out for him. Roman was holding back tackling Virgil and kissing him breathless. 

“Roman?” Virgil finally said, voice cracking from what Roman could only assume was crying, or emotion.

“Virgil,” he answered, voice barely above a whisper. 

They both hesitated before saying in unison, “I’m sorry.”

They startled, staring incredulously at each other. 

“No, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, Storm Cloud,” Roman said, a tear falling. “This is all my fault and I’m so sorry. I overreacted and I promise, I didn’t mean anything I said, and I realize now that you never sent those messages, and it was probably someone messing with me, and I ruined everything, and I’m so sorry!” Roman was opening sobbing now. “You’re h-hurt, and it’s my fault,” he whispered, covering his mouth with a hand to muffle his crying. “I’m sorry.”

“Ro,” Virgil was crying, too. He reached his hands up, and Roman sniffed, falling into the bed with his boyfriend. They hugged each other tight, face in each other’s necks and hair. Roman gripped Virgil’s hospital gown tight in his fists while Virgil grabbed at Roman’s bare arms. They cried together, Roman apologizing and Virgil voicing his forgiveness. 

“I’m sorry, I love you so much, Virgil, I’m sorry,” Roman whimpered, not even realizing what he’d said. Virgil gasped and smiled. 

“I love you too, Princey,” he giggled a little, looking up at his boyfriend’s face. His eyes were blotchy, he had horrible blue patches under his eyes, there was snot smeared from his nose, tears all over his face. He was perfect. Virgil leaned forward and kissed Roman softly, a subtle press of soft skin, pulling back after a second. “I love you so much.”

“Me too. Me too, my emo,” he mumbled over Virgil’s lips before they were kissing again, harder and more passionate. They put all their love, all their sorrow, their apologies, their forgiveness, their pain, their longing, everything into that kiss. It left the two dizzy afterward, both laughing giddily at the declarations of love. Roman held his lover’s face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs softly over his cheeks, looking over him. He was his, and he’d never let anything take him away from him again. Not misunderstandings, not himself, not anyone else, and certainly not an untimely death. And that’s all that mattered, right? Virgil was alive. Virgil was alive, and he’d be okay. They’d be okay. They had each other, Roman had his forgiveness, Virgil had his reassurance, they had each other’s love. That’s all they’ll ever really need. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this came out a little later than I wanted it to, but here it is! I hope you all liked it! (I told you there'd be a happy ending)
> 
> Peace! 
> 
> ~Parker_28


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